


The importance of being on time for dinner

by imladrissun



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrissun/pseuds/imladrissun
Summary: The time that Jim finds himself spending at Wayne manor.





	1. Chapter 1

Sunday dinner becomes a thing. At first, Jim is only ever visiting the Wayne estate for real reasons, for case reasons. And then, it seems, he isn't. 

He's just coming over to hang out, really. At first, Alfred makes noises about it being for Bruce, about him having company over and more 'formal' dinners once more. [Apparently he eats little when it's just the two of them]. Jim is beginning to realize that might have been just a front. 

Jim watches movies with them, eats with them. Alfred even makes fun of him once in a while, and he claps back, which Bruce seems to find hilarious. Bruce tells him little things about knicknacks in the house [which are inevitably worth more than he can imagine] and Alfred answers his little questions curtly, but those are still answers, not silence [about being in the military, whether he likes American food as much as British, if he thinks their accents sound weird after all this time, and do all British people eat marmalade?]

They both have been incredibly considerate, subtly pointing things out that Jim doesn't get without making him ask [like which fork to use first at dinner], and Alfred doesn't make him dress up for dinner [even though Bruce and Alfred do]. 

When he asks why Alfred isn't sitting with them to eat on their second dinner, Bruce and the man himself abscond to the kitchen for a moment, and return only to tell him that Alfred can sit in at the table if he'd prefer more conversation at the table. 

He doesn't get how much they're compromising their rules -- not 'the rules', but their cultural rules -- until Selina fills him in one day in passing. "Can't believe you got them to go with what you want," she says, somehow climbing up a building at the same time. "I'm almost jealous."

"What?" he asks, bewildered, but she's long gone. 

She flits in and out of their lives, it seems. It's only when he happens in on the house while someone else is visiting that he sees what things are really like; their typical behavior. He comes through the back, one of the little doors Alfred gave him a key to. In the distance, he hears the two of them talking to some visitor, so he hangs back. With other people, everything is perfectly formal, and Alfred never breaks character. They're very standoffish. Bruce is more stuffy as well, never leaning back in his chair, all ramrod straight--or using contractions, half the time...

Jim retreats to the kitchen, though he's loath to touch anything. He peeks into the fridge only to find a plate laid out, covered with a glass top and a note taped to it. It says 'James', of course. Alfred likes to call him that sometimes, just to surprise him. Or fluster, he can't tell. 

Usually he likes to hang out with Alfred in there, and the man forces him to sit [and stay] in the little breakfast nook alcove. The chair isn't an Eames, he told him. 

Jim hasn't had time yet to look that up. He has to do that with a lot of what Alfred mentions, not to mention Bruce. Sometimes he brings them takeout when he gets off shift, just so he doesn't feel like a freeloader, but they get weirdly excited about it instead of being snobby, to his surprise. He'd been prepared for anything, but they always seem to surprise him. 

He and Alfred are close, at least in the way anyone could be with him. Jim doesn't always know what he means, or if he's serious, or what he's getting at [when he's being mysterious, which is a lot of the time]. But despite it all, he starts to think of the big old house as somewhere safe, and even cozy -- which makes no sense, as the rooms are all cavernous. 

Coming home one night after a disturbing case leads to him waking up next to Alfred. It takes a while for the fuzz to clear [it is 4 a.m., in his defense] and then he gets it: Alfred is holding him, lying next to him in bed, because he'd been practically insensate when he came home. 

Alfred had found him, sitting inside the the little back door by where he parked his car. He had slid down the wall after getting inside, and had just sat there, staring into nothing. He'd left the lights off. 

After putting him in an old fashioned pajama set, all soft and a little too big, Alfred put him in bed, only to be clung to. But he'd borne it with good grace, letting Jim do it, he realized. The memories kept flooding back unmercifully. He suddenly felt consumed by embarrassment. 

Jim dragged himself out of bed, sliding out from under Alfred's heavy arm. He got halfway across the room in bare feet [thank god for those big, fancy looking rugs in every room, he thought absently, they were so soft] before he grasped that he had no idea where to go. Where exactly was he going to flee to?

There was nowhere to go. The guest room he usually used felt out of the question; Alfred had opened up himself, had made this gesture that was both quiet and huge. Jim wanted to honor it somehow, show that Alfred was special to him, there was no question that he was going to stay, he realized. He gave up staring forlornly at the door, and turned back to look at Alfred, still asleep. Jim got back in the bed, and relaid his arm over him. He felt oddly protected. That dark, cozy bed was just another instance of feeling that Alfred was like a imposing wall of comfortingness. He had his back--emotionally, metaphorically and apparently physically.

They didn't talk about it. Jim kind of loved that about Alfred, that he wasn't a talking about your feelings guy. He kept him, and his protective feelings about Bruce, close to his heart. Jim was somtimes 'summoned' to the manor on excuses that seemed extraordinarily flimsy. If Bruce had to practice a speech he was presenting to a private tutor, he needed an audience. 

Jim never asked why Alfred wasn't apparently enough for these situations. They both seemed ridiculously pleased for him to show up, to 'hang out' with them. Even in his head he gave the phrase quote marks. Alfred would talk a bit more openly with him every time, and Bruce updated him on everything: his schooling, his pet projects, his investigations, his setbacks and advancements, his study of whatever type of martial arts he was interested in at the moment, what Selina was doing, and things he'd heard about police cases. 

Bruce could talk forever, it turned out. Before he knew it, Jim was part of the family. Alfred came to the station to pick him up for Christmas after Bruce called, inviting him by adding that the car was literally waiting out front for him at that very moment. 

They definitely knew how to get their man, he thought, amused. Eventually, though, he realized that they both knew he was kind of sweet on Alfred before he did. And it was true, he did love Alfred. It took him a while before he understood that the feeling was mutual. Neither member of Wayne manor was very forthcoming in things like feelings. 

Christmas had been funny, because Jim had acutally bought them both something before finding out he was invited. He had gotten Alfred a big box of everything British he could find [like tea, TimTams and treacle; he hoped he wouldn't be made to eat that last one] and Bruce got a few sets of legos.

He hadn't really thought about the reality of their lives -- or rather, their socioeconomic differences. They got him, and Selina too, boxes upon boxes of gifts. She can't stop shooting him looks, and he gets it. It's never been more clear that they are both from different worlds. 

She even gets him a gift, which shocks him, and he's so suprised he can't hide it. He got her an array of cat food, toys and magazines. 

All three of them are a little confused when it turns out that his present is her favorite. [Alfred gets her some ladylike accoutrements, as he calls it--clothes in 'proper outfits', with all the accessories. Weirdly, that includes gloves, miniature little bottles of perfumes, two hats, a watch, high heels and flats; Bruce gives her the jewelry. 

They give him clothes too. And a pen, and a bottle of cologne. Jim manfully refrains from saying that the only time he'll be wearing this stuff is when he comes directly from his apartment to the manor. Which is only on weekends. 

Selina has a put-off air about her, so he asks her to help him with a quick question about Gotham's back alley street layout upstairs [he has some maps printed out], and she confesses that she feels offended by, quote, 'all the stupid, frilly stuff'. 

He gets it, he does. And he tells her. "You know I feel like that, the same way you do," he points out. "I don't think they get 'normal' Christmas. We're lucky this happened, and not anything weirder."

Selina rolls her eyes with a moue of youth and annoyance, but she also nods begrudgingly after a while. "It could have been worse," she decided. "And it was cute to see Alfred give you those books."

He had, there were actually a strange amount of books downstairs. They were half old novels [he thought, the covers seemed like it at least] and half poetry. Jim sincerely hoped that he wasn't going to be expected to discuss his feelings on Baudelaire or Villon.

They hustled back downstairs as Jim congratulated himself on a job well done. Alfred had gone slack jawed at his gift, going through the box as though shocked, and Bruce had ripped open his lego sets immediately, with glee. And held his little soft Popple carefully. Jim had given one to each of the kids, so there'd be no sense of sexism or childishness.

He just thought they were cute. 

After the kids go off to play, or whatever it is they do, Jim trails after Alfred as he goes off to the kitchen. This time, Alfred sits beside him in the window seat, opens the window, and lights a cigarette. He doesn't smoke it, he just lets it burn as he holds it out the window. 

Jim doesn't ask why, he's a little too caught up in the way he's right there, pressed up against him. Alfred always smells good, in a quiet way. It's in that moment that he realizes they've been practically going out for a while now. He isn't even scolded when he's late for dinner. It takes him a while to see that they wait for him--well, Selina doesn't when she's there, but she'll dole out a half-smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The manor is a very eerie place, to be honest. Jim likes it when he's being distracted by Alfred, or the kids, but not just on its own. There are nights when he can't sleep, and yet can't countenance waking Alfred, so he just wanders the halls. 

He doesn't touch anything, or open any doors. Unfortunately, his long route fails to calm him. He usually only manages to spook himself. The rooms seem unnatural in the dark of the black early morning. Jim focuses on trying to walk back and forth between Alfred's room and Bruce's. 

He goes barefoot so he doesn't make noise and disturb anyone. Sometimes he thinks Alfred knows what he's been doing, but mostly he doubts it. He never says anything at least.

It feels so humiliating; he can't bring himself to tell anyone he can't sleep through the night. Alfred saw action, he's sure, but he sleeps fine. This is just too embarassing. Even Bruce sleeps fine, it seems, and he witnessed something beyond anyone's ability to tolerate. 

During the day, Jim loves the house. It seems to burst with half-hidden jewel tones and beautiful, intricate little things. 

He likes the marble statues, like the saint on a throne, but doesn't really care for the paintings. 

The first few times he falls asleep [or finds himself] in Alfred's room instead of his guest room, he doesn't really notice his surroundings. 

Eventually, though, he's there at home [when did he start thinking of it like that?] by himself. Alfred's out somewhere with Bruce, and Jim's alone. For the first time he tiptoes quietly into Alfred's room and looks around. It's actually quite beautiful, yet understated. 

The room is done up in tones of green and gold, and filled with books, the walls have tapestries on them. Jim prefers their old, medieval-like look to the paintings in the other rooms. 

It seems like another guest room, in a way, but it's different than the rest. In the corner, there's a door hidden between a bookshelf and a window, and he tries it. It's open--and he suddenly realizes it's a staircase that leads to the kitchen downstairs. 

There's a sense of personalness, but also an immaculate feeling to the space. There is also a bunch of stuff that Jim suddenly realizes is meant for him--extra slippers in his size [Alfred's feet are bigger than his], magazines on baseball by a plush chair that looks like it's from the 1700s [baseball is his favorite sport; Alfred has previously informed him that it is an inferior form of cricket], and a plethora of other miscellaneous items on the nightstand by his side of the bed. 

He'd never really taken this much in, noticed all these little details. He backs out of the room silently and shuts the door. Jim leans against it and thinks. He's been so busy for so long that he has just gone with the flow in this house, never questioning his time with Alfred.

Now he sees it clearer. And suddenly the little comments Harvey makes fall into place--saying he's happy it's not just him looking after Jim, make sure they make you eat, get some rest at that place. 

And about Alfred, he once said, albeit begrudgingly, that he liked that guy. Jim suddenly wonders if that was for his benefit. If he was tacitly giving his approval. 

Jim hadn't really thought of it like that; it all seemed so innocent. ...But when he considered it, Alfred did have amazing shoulders, to be fair. He also likes Alfred's hot chocolate. 

On the serious side of things, he was probably the only reason Bruce was still alive, first of all. He made Jim feel like he had something to fall back on, a person to talk to, a confidant waiting in the wings. He was quietly thoughtful.

He packed him little lunches for the next day at work, when he was there. Jim had often felt that Alfred was simply on top of everything, effortlessly, except for the rare times he and Bruce aren't on the same page. 

It's only rarely that he sees beyond that mask of competence. Like when Selina tells him that he'd better watch it if he wants to keep his man. "I'm sorry, wha--wait, my man? What man?" he asks, confused. "Who?"

She cuts him off, shrugs. "Yeah. You know, Alfred. I heard you haven't been over there in a while."

In his defense, it's been about a week. Since when did that become unusual; he's over there most of the week, ususally. How is that the norm, he thinks, surprised at himself. He's been swamped at work this week, though, and he and Harvey have been focusing on watching certain suspicious characters at night. When they get off, it's almost daybreak, so he crashes at his tiny city apartment. 

"I've been working," he tells her, befuddled. 

"I get it," she says impatiently, "but if you're dumping Alfred just do it. Don't ghost. I'm pretty sure he thinks you're done. And Bruce starts telling me what he's reading for school, which is so boring it might literally kill me." 

Jim is shocked. He stands slack jawed as Selina somehow gets from the street he's on to the roof above them. It seems ridiculous to think Alfred could feel that way. Jim's the insecure one, the one who messes up. 

Alfred's mature. He's also the one who decides to put Bruce back in with private tutors who come to the house, after another school incident goes badly. Neither of them tell him what happened, and he's too sorry for them to ask. 

This means he ends up walking in on Bruce doing odd things, like listening to music of the Mangkunegaran. "It's from Indonesia," he tells Jim, who stands there, bemused. Alfred bustles in, and looks pleased to see him, thank god.

He doesn't say anything out of the ordinary, and neither does Bruce, and he's inestimably grateful for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred has moments where he betrays his surprise, his real feelings, sometimes, usually when Jim tries to either be appreciative or helpful, but he is clearly trying to suppress them. He'll turn his head, or tamp down his little smile. 

[It's apparently funny that Jim tries to help him do things, whether it be to the car, anything with machinery, laundry, computers or with things in the kitchen. Or with cleaning. Jim will freely admit he doesn't know much about any of those things, but he'll be damned if he's not going to try to be useful. Alfred refrains from commenting and just lets him try to do whatever it is he's bent on doing--while watching him, bemused.] 

It's nice that he seems to be pleased with him, now that Bruce is doing so well; before, he was tense all the time, and just wanted to unload his feelings for second or two. The intensity of his words, and worries, is in the past now. Jim is grateful for it. 

Now he's all calm restraint. Jim walks by the blue room the next time he comes over, only to glance over and see Selina and Bruce apparently practicing a foreign language. Asian, by his reckoning. 

In the kitchen, Alfred informs him that it's Japanese. "They're doing their katakana, 'cause it's easy, see." As if that makes any sense to him. 

Jim just blinks at the bowl he's stirring up and listens to his monologue on Bruce's current studies. Now that he lives with them half the time, Alfred actually talks quite a bit to him. He can go on and on, ruminating and updating Jim on what's been going on with them. 

Jim is content to listen. There is only safety in that kitchen, the wooden countertop, the way the stained glass crest on the windows turns the light into a kaleidoscope of colors. He half listens to Alfred go on about how Bruce is learning about the Delta Andromedae, and why he doesn't like that.

It's a long list of reasons, it turns out.

For the first time, he looks at the line of Alfred's shoulders, and realizes that he stands in a more relaxed stance when it's just the two of them. He always seems so straight, so tall and alert, but if Jim is the only one there, Alfred actually unbends a little. 

That immediately makes Jim think of how hard it must be to do what he's doing--being a parent suddenly, out of the blue, because of a tragedy. Jim doesn't know how he'd handle it, himself. And to have to do it alone, without help or another person to be the other parent, it would be so exhausting.

Jim feels like he'd definitely err on the side of Puritanical rules and curfews. Alfred's much more liberal with Bruce than he is. "Hello, there," he says, and Jim jerks back to the present in his chair, looking up at him. 

"Yeah, parallax shifts, I'm listening," he says, while Alfred just gives him this look that screams he knows he was a million miles away.

He's too polite to mention it out loud, thankfully. Jim can't help it, he just gets this feeling of relaxation; this is one of the only places where he instinctively de-stresses. 

Everything's just so quiet. He doesn't even mind how cold the floors are in the hallways when he walks around at night.

The bowl, as it happens, is chocolate pudding to go into a pie--it's amazing, to no one's surprise. Jim loves his pies. The kids eat while they do their homework, which consists today of Bruce reading his physics textbook [Jim manfully restrains himself from asking if he isn't a bit too young for that], and Selina reading summation books of elementary education [which seem to be in oversized text]. 

Jim doesn't do anything at all, though he could do paperwork. He just sits there and watches everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce's schooling gets more and more esoteric [to Jim's surprise; he didn't know that was possible as it was], and he also gets stronger. He starts to take private lessons in different martial arts from several experts at the house in secret. 

Alfred asks him to teach him about a few firearms, to his silent confusion. He knows Alfred has a past that includes this type of knowledge. And surely his experience is greater than Jim's. 

But no, he wants Jim to do it all. Bruce is super excited to do it, so it's not like he can say: no, what?! Why? And why me? What child needs to know this much about firearms?!

But he doesn't say anything. If Alfred thinks it's a good idea for him to know, Jim is worried about the 'why'. There must be more danger out there, that they haven't told him about. It's getting to the point now that Bruce will have to start thinking about colleges, though it's not like he couldn't get in anywhere, anyway. And he is incredibly smart. 

Jim almost asks about it a few times, but forces it down. They've started to keep things between themselves, and not tell him. It's not that it hurts, it's just that he thought he was part of the group, and now he really, really isn't. 

And then Bruce absently mentions his trip, and Jim gets it. They're going to start focusing on him seriously, now. A boy -- almost a man, really -- of Bruce's stature and wealth travels much oftener than he has. It's already begun, in a way. They'll be busy, now, what with Bruce going to take a few courses at Oxford. 

Wasn't this always going to happen, he thinks. He's just a little part of the interstitial time in Bruce's young life, before he assumes his real mantle. And of course, Alfred's going with him to England. He gets it out of Bruce on the phone, which is rude of him, because it's easier to get information from him than from Alfred, and wishes him well. 

Not that he'll need good luck, he's smart enough to easily crush any top British schoolwork. Jim hangs up. It smarts to think that they're both just moving on, and he's here, in Gotham, alone. 

They call him back, he can tell by the different phone numbers they use, but he doesn't pick up. What's the point? The real reason is that he can't trust himself not to get emotional if forced to talk to either of them. It seems so sudden, although of course it shouldn't be. Bruce is the right age and everything, they just never mentioned anything like this to him. 

It's hard for him at first, sitting at his desk. Harvey takes one look at him and makes him lay down on the couch in his office. He looks worried at the fact he takes him up on it with no protest. 

He's been staying over at the estate for quite a while now, and has clothes there, personal things, everything. He barely has anything important in his actual apartment. He hangs out with Harvey way after his shift ends, just trying to not think about it. 

[It doesn't work]. 

When he finally goes out back to get in his car, he finds someone in it -- and jumps, shocked. It's Alfred. 

He involuntarily steps back from the car; not wanting to talk about it. Alfred just raises an eyebrow at him. He does not look like he's about to leave the driver's seat any time soon, so Jim goes around and gets in the other one. 

Just get it over with, he thinks. You can retreat to Harvey's office as soon as this is over; it is okay. For a mantra, it's not half bad. But then he's there, sitting there, and he can't make himself look at Alfred. 

"Now what's this?" he finally says, very accent-y. He's upset with him, Jim notes, not thrilled. "D'you think I'm going over there with two wild children, without backup? D'you think Master Bruce didn't already arrange for you to be sent with him in an official capacity? Because he did; and I helped him."

"That's crazy," Jim says, unthinking. "How could that happen?"

Alfred gives him a long look that implies he's trying not to sigh and shake his head. "We made it happen. We're family," he adds, and Jim almost gasps himself. 

They've never spoken like that, even though it's been years now, since he was in their inner circle. He and Alfred have helped Bruce [and Selina] grow up together, but it's always been implied that Jim is part of their group. He's like the mother, or an aunt, to the kids. 

He's more sentimental than Alfred, more soft, and he knows it. Alfred's the stern one, who makes the rules and enforces them. Jim is more of a comforting type, albeit in a very average guy way. He brings Selina packages of oreos when she seems upset over something, and tells Bruce he did well on his schoowork--which is odd actually, that the boy comes to him for approval in this vein, because everyone knows that Alfred is waaay smarter than him. 

In probably almost every subject. It could just be his accent making him seem more educated, but Jim doubts it. Alfred seems to know everything, most of the time. "Well," Alfred adds, into awkward silence of Jim gawping at him, "Pack your bags. I won't have the children disappointed."

He looks at him searchingly then, as if to figure out where Jim's behavior is coming from. That's when Jim realizes that they must be upset with his apparently abject dismissal of Bruce's earlier phone call. 

"Are you sure about this?" he says finally. "How long is this going to be?"

Alfred shrugs, looking more relaxed. "Who knows, god forbid I presume and it goes sideways. Now go tell the boy you're very excited to come."

He seems like he's about to get out of the car, and Jim grabs his arm, lightly. "I am," he says, and hesitates. "I just thought this was the end, you know. You guys going off, doing stuff. I thought I wouldn't see you again."

Alfred gives him a look. It eloquently communicates that he's an idiot, but he doesn't mind. "There's a museum around thereabouts that's having some things go missing--and it'd be terribly helpful to have an official liaison discuss it with the curator. Also, they're Master Bruce's property, the missing artifacts, so he's well within his rights to bring an officer of the law with him to investigate. To set things straight."

He looks down at where Jim is still grabbing his arm. "I cannot believe you could possibly imagine me leaving you here defenceless in the sea of harpies, men and women, that would go right after you. My god, you look like you bleed kindness and justice. And everyone knows you deal with Master Bruce; with him out and gone, they'd try to go for you. I don't think so," Alfred said, with finality. 

Jim blinked at him. Alfred had always seemed to think he was much better than he was: more attractive, smarter, more good. He and Bruce, and even Selina, acted as if he were the Mother Teresa himself, which was not true at all. 

They had him up on such a weird pedestal. He didn't know what to do about it, really. Well, after they got annoyed with living with him in some foreign country, they'd definitely feel he'd gone down a peg. 

Jim was very much a city boy, and hadn't traveled much. He had no doubt he'd be making accidental faux pas's everywhere, all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out Alfred had very much planned ahead. Jim had no opportunity to do something wrong with the two of them either telling him things, or trying to stop Selina from doing things. She had consented to be 'dressed' for certain occasions, and Jim had not, but nonetheless Alfred had packed a whole suite full of clothes for him. And then picked them out for him, on some days.

Harvey is kind of unsettled by Jim leaving for a vacation, but he's excited, himself, both before and during the first few days. He accompanies Bruce and Alfred around and they investigate together. Being together with them is nice; it's like having a family. 

They have 'real' tea times now, as Bruce explains to him. He likes the cucumber sandwiches. Alfred makes the food still, there's no maid. For the first time, Jim realizes that that's not normal for someone of Bruce's standing. Selina sits next to him on the plane [apparently he's less of a 'grown up' than the other two... he's not sure if that's an insult or not] and talks about Downton Abbey while eating his caprese sandwich. 

He goes up to scrounge up something to eat, and finds that Alfred's made him up an extra, "Since the mice might get into yours," he's informed dryly. Alfred is focused on helping Bruce learn something -- it looks like ancient writing, like cuneiform, but Jim isn't sure. They're doing flashcards together, so Jim resigns himself to his duty: entertaining Selina for an entire ocean of flying time.

It's not too bad, though. She talks about lots of different things, and asks him weird questions -- but no personal ones, so that's okay. He finds out that she sometimes creeps up on Harvey and tells him to be 'good', to which he yells after her that he is already, and 'don't talk to Jim about me!'. 

Jim can imagine it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously indebted [see title lol] to the great fic Fair Play by manic_intent -- I loved it so much I just had to write something.
> 
> **FYI I take commissions, just message me : )


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